The other Summer time some friends of mine
Said, 'Come along on our yacht.'
So I went down the 'Lane' one Sunday morn
And this yachting suit I got
We sailed away from Fried Fish Bay
Forget it I never can
We'd a cargo of ale when we went for that sail
On the Mediterranean.

The good old Prince of Wales was going too
But as soon as me he saw
He said, 'Ting-a-ling I'll go next Spring
When your nose begins to thaw.'
Then like its cheek the yacht sprang a leak
Off the coast of 'Black and Tan'
When the sea got rough I soon had enough
Of the Mediterranean.

The gale was very thick and the yacht would stick
Where she had no blooming right
So the Captain said, 'Since your nose is red
It will do for a danger light.'
Then he shouted woa! heave ho, heave ho
As on a winkle bank he ran
He meant me I could tell when he said, There's a swell
On the Mediterranean.'

If you find a little yacht about that spot
They call Trafalgar's Bay
In a terrible plight with her bottom quite
By the ocean torn away
Just send her along to the singer of this song
On a Carter Paterson's van
For ev'ry one but me is at the bottom of the sea
In the Meditarranean.

Performed by Harry Champion (1865-1942)
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